Sarnai

Sarnai sat alone by the fire, cleaning one of her weapons. It was an arming sword of pale metal, its crossguard wrought in graceful shapes, with a grass-green beryl set in the hilt. Although it was not the kind of blade she had been familiar with from her father's arms, it was Sarnai's first sword, a gift from her first true friend west of the Misty Mountains.

(OOC Note: Some mundane diary entries have little importance, so the numbers might skip around in her diary a bit.)

Sarnai rode at a swift canter through a Bree-land meadow under the evening sky. Steering her horse with her legs alone, she leaned forward in the saddle as she studied the bloodied piece of leather in her hand. It's a map, she realized, which answers a few questions. 

So much had happened in only a few hours' time!

The moon was high in the sky, casting its cold rays down over the fields and limning each leaf and blade of grass in pale silver. It gleamed like a half-lidded eye among the stars, watching the world drowsily. Like it, Sarnai was awake.

On the sunny day the raven came with a message tied to its leg, Sarnai was sitting in silence under a tree, sharpening her knives and watching her horse graze. She smiled at the bird, removing the parchment and letting it go. Reading slowly - her Westron, Sarnai realized with a twinge of regret, needed work - she deciphered the missive’s contents, being thorough to make sure she understood the words, then slipped it into her pack. Sarnai mounted her horse, whispering a few kind words into the animal’s ear, and rode south toward Bree-town.